She breathed a little easier. “That would be good, thank you. It’s not that I don’t want to marry you because I do, more than anything but I’ve been in the spotlight so much lately that I couldn’t stand it again.”
“Not a problem honey, we can put it on hold until you’re ready, it doesn’t matter how long it takes. When you are ready we could even slip away somewhere to get hitched, just the two of us, we don’t have to have an audience.” He kissed her and pressed his forehead to hers. “Just don’t send me away, please,” he said desperately. “We belong together. I’ve known it since the moment I saw you.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she said, her tears mingling with his. “But I couldn’t stand it if you got fed up with me and left.”
“So that’s what you were trying to do, send me away before I walked out on you?”
“Yes,” she rasped.
“Not gonna happen, okay honey? I am not going anywhere. You don’t need to worry about that.”
She burst into tears and clung onto him. Mike gripped onto her, shaky with relief that she wasn’t going to send him away after all. But he had to snap her out of it before she did end their relationship once and for all.
“Why are we out here again Mike?” said Isla as he steered the Land Rover down the drive to the cottage. “We were only here this morning to check on how the building’s going.”
“Trust me, will you?” he said, patting her hand.
“You’re being really mysterious.”
“Humour me honey.”
He parked the car beside the house, the shell of which had already been constructed, the gentle yellow of the sandstone blocks reflecting the moonlight beautifully. Work was progressing quickly and they would be in their new home for the summer.
Taking her hand he led her past the house down to the water, Isla clinging on tighter when she thought they were headed down the jetty but instead they walked onto the small shingle beach which had been lit up with lanterns and fairy lights. Four members of the violin section of Isla’s orchestra sat on chairs, instruments in their hands, smiling at the surprise in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” she said, although she was smiling.
“I arranged a little surprise to cheer you up,” said Mike. “Seeing how you won’t return to the music, I brought the music to you.”
The four women launched into Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, Isla’s favourite piece. Although it had originally been written for piano, Isla herself had rearranged it for strings for the orchestra. She leaned back against Mike, who wrapped his arms around her waist and she closed her eyes as the music flowed around her and through her. It felt to become a living part of her, a sensation she had not felt in a long time. It only occurred to her how much she’d missed it.
“Oh my God,” she breathed when orbs of colour materialised above the violinists’ heads, shifting and pulsating in time with the music. Beautiful pinks, purples, oranges and yellows melding in and out of each other as each note flowed into the next. At first she thought she’d suddenly come down with chromesthesia, until Mike explained.
“Don’t worry, you haven’t got what I’ve got,” he told her. “It’s Andrew who arranges the lighting at your concerts, he was happy to help.”
Isla spotted her colleague standing in the tree line, his equipment powered by a small generator.
“I wanted you to see what I see when I look at you,” continued Mike. “You don’t create those colours when you play, you are those colours. They’re your soul. You see how beautiful you are.”
Isla could only gaze in wonder, her eyes reflecting each colour, the music wrapping around her, soothing her, comforting her. She couldn’t believe she had ignored it these last few weeks.
Mike hoped he wasn’t pushing her too far when he retrieved her violin case from the side of one of the player’s chairs, opened it up and gently took out her violin. He held it out to her. “This is part of you and you’ve rejected it for too long. Make yourself whole again honey.”
With shaking hands she reached out and took it from him, her fingers closing around the cool wood. Tentatively she placed the violin under her chin and took the bow he held out to her. Nerves flickered through her as she put the bow to the strings, wondering if she still had it in her or if recent experience had permanently killed this part of her.
The quartet reached the end of the piece then immediately launched into it again, allowing Isla to join in. Her fingers moved of their own accord up and down the strings. All the horror she’d endured began to pour out of her, carried away by the beauty of the music and lifted into the air where it burst into those beautiful orbs of light, transformed into something good and pure. She decanted all the darkness she’d been holding onto into the music, tears rolling down her face as she finally let it all go.
As the last note quivered into silence, a light pink orb shivering over their heads, her body sagged and she gasped with relief, Mike catching her as she stumbled towards him. The orb of light vanished to reveal the moon high in the sky, bathing them all in its silver glow.
“Thank you,” she breathed into his chest, her violin in one hand, the bow in the other. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome honey,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
Mike had even gone as far as to arrange a small picnic, which he fetched from the boot of the car and carried down to the shore. He returned to find Isla talking and actually laughing with her friends. Her sparkle had returned and when she looked at him, the moonlight reflected in her eyes, his breath caught in his throat.
They tucked into the food and wine, except for Mike and Andrew, who were the designated drivers and when it became too cold to remain outside Isla’s friends took their leave to begin the drive back to Edinburgh. They only left after she’d promised to return to the orchestra soon.
She linked arms with Mike as they returned to the Land Rover. “Thanks so much for tonight,” she told him. “I haven’t felt this normal in a long time.”
“I knew the music would help you.”
“It has. It feels like I’ve thrown away a lot of rubbish that was inside me, weighing me down. Does that make sense or is it the wine talking?”
“It makes perfect sense.”
They drove back to the house they were renting in silence but it was a happy silence, full of contentment, something they hadn’t known for a while. Once they were inside Mike locked the front door and turned to Isla. “Do you fancy a hot chocolate…”
She pressed her lips to his, silencing him. “No, I want to go to bed.”
“Yeah, I suppose tonight wore you out.”
She took his hand and led him to the stairs. “On the contrary my big Lafayette bear.”
Mike was elated. She’d hadn’t called him that in ages.
They staggered into the bedroom they shared, kissing. They’d shunned the large master bedroom for one of the smaller rooms, which felt more like home because they’d got so used to the little cottage. Isla was a whirlwind, stripping his clothes as well as her own and scattering them about the room. The next thing he knew they were laid on their side facing each other and he was back where he belonged, inside her. They kissed and stroked one another, whispering sweet words as they moved together until their bodies arched, shaking, a cry leaving Isla’s lips.
“I want to marry you Mike,” she breathed as she rested in his arms.
“I thought you wanted to wait?”
“Not any longer. When we move into our new home I want us to be married.” She rolled onto her front to kiss his chest. “Let’s go away somewhere just the two of us and do it quietly. I couldn’t stand to have an audience.”
“Vegas?” he said with an amused arch of the eyebrow.
“Err, no. I was thinking more St Lucia, where we went on holiday last year. You remember there was a couple staying at our hotel who got married out there, just the two of them. They said it was amazing.”
“Okay,” he smiled, pleased. “If
that’s what you want, let’s do it.”
“What about your family? Do you want any of them there? Am I being really selfish again?”
“No honey, not at all. The only way my family could be a part of our wedding is if we flew over to Indiana and then we’d be swamped with loads of relatives, most of them just there for the food and it would turn into a circus. We’d both hate it. I love the idea of just the two of us. We can always visit my parents after we’re married.”
“So, shall we go for it?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“When?”
“When do you want to do it?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Wow, this is a huge turnaround. I mean, I’m loving it but I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard too soon.”
“I’m not, I feel great, for the first time since I was taken and that’s thanks to you. The music was just what I needed.”
“You do seem so much better.”
“I feel it. It’s time for us to put the past behind us and get on with our lives.”
“You can’t know how happy I am to hear you say that,” he said, kissing her.
“Sorry for scaring you but I love you so much I couldn’t stand to hurt you anymore.”
“You’re not, really. You just made my year.”
She straddled him. “How about I make your next two years?” she grinned, the mischievousness returning to her eyes.
Mike woke from the best sleep he’d had in years, stretching his body, enjoying the sense of satisfaction that filled him. The cold that had sunk into his bones when she’d disappeared had finally gone. Plus it was the first time in weeks he hadn’t been woken by her screams as she was caught in the grip of another nightmare.
He lifted his head from the pillow when he realised she wasn’t lying beside him. A sound caught his attention from downstairs and he realised it was a violin.
Pulling on his dressing gown he padded downstairs, the thick carpet absorbing the sound of his footfalls. He walked into the lounge and was assailed by a riot of colours. He blinked against the small orbs of light which appeared and reformed before he could even register their colour. Through it all he could just about make out Isla standing in the centre of the room wearing one of his t-shirts, her legs bare, the violin tucked under her chin, eyes closed as she played. It wasn’t a piece he recognised. Often she didn’t play to someone else’s composition, rather she just improvised, bringing forth the notes as they were created inside her. He’d never heard her play so fast, her fingers blurring on the strings but she hit each note with precision and all he could do was stand and stare, mesmerised as she used the instrument to exorcise herself of the remaining trauma. Music had done more for her than the counsellor could ever do.
Eventually the music ended and finally Mike could see clearly again.
“How long have you been standing there?” she said.
“A few minutes. That was incredible.”
“Thank you. I’ve felt it inside me for a while now. I had to get it out. I’m finding it so cathartic.”
“That’s great,” he said, wrapping an arm around her. “You’re freezing.”
“Funny because I feel hot.”
“Come back to bed.”
“Okay.”
She replaced the violin and bow back in their case and took his hand, letting him lead her back upstairs.
Finally the ordeal was over.
CHAPTER 22
Mike and Isla were married in St Lucia four months later. They came back just in time to see the Colonel being sentenced. They sat together in the gallery surrounded by a lot of the locals from Strachur. Also present were a pack of journalists - including Sloss - and Stewart and Wheeler. Hannah hadn’t come, unable to face it, although Will was there, determined to see the man who had destroyed his family being punished. Amelia had already been sent to a young offender’s home for seven years on an array of charges, the primary one being the attempted murder of her mother. The jury hadn’t been that sympathetic after all, especially when two psychiatrists had stated that she was in her right mind and had participated willingly.
Isla sat beside Mike, anxiously fiddling with her gold wedding band, their skin still tanned from their holiday. The Colonel sat in the dock, holding himself rigid and proud.
“He could at least have the grace to hang his head,” Joyce tutted to her friends, who were sat in the row before Isla and Mike.
Isla held her breath as the judge began to read the sentence.
Ten bodies in total had been found in the walls of his house, so he was found guilty of ten counts of murder and two counts of abduction, imprisonment and attempted murder. Each murder carried a life sentence and the attempted murders twenty five years apiece.
“Oh thank God,” breathed Isla, doubling over, resting her head in her hands.
“It’s over honey,” said Mike, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “It’s over.”
They watched as the Colonel was taken down to the cells below, from where he would be transferred to Shotts Prison in Lanarkshire, a maximum security prison. He still walked with his military bearing, head held high. As he was being led down he paused to look back at Isla and his moustache bristled. No doubt he was still annoyed that his collection would forever remain incomplete.
He was forced down the stairs by two burly prison officers and vanished from sight.
“Thank God that’s over,” said Isla, taking in a long, shaky breath.
“Are you okay sweetheart?” said Joyce, turning in her seat to pat her hand.
“Much better now,” she replied with a tired smile.
Mike had much more time for Joyce after he’d seen her take off her own shoes to put on Isla’s poor bare feet.
Everyone filed out of the courtroom, ignoring the journalists assembled outside who had come from far and wide.
“Let’s go and check on the house,” said Isla when they’d made it back to the car after negotiating the gauntlet of press.
“Okay,” he said, starting the engine.
Isla felt herself unwind after the stress of the day when the loch came into view. Despite the fact that her brother had murdered her grandfather on this land and that she’d been abducted from it, her love for it hadn’t diminished. It was as though it existed in her very soul, just like the music.
The house was almost finished. The exterior was complete, the building larger than the original. The warm sandstone basked in the glow of the afternoon sun, soaking it up. Mike pressed his hand to the stone, enjoying the warmth seeping into his skin. The coldness that had lingered over this area since Robert’s body had been found had vanished. Once again it was a welcoming escape from the world. Isla planned on planting a riot of rose bushes out the front, she thought the deep red would contrast beautifully with the walls and she wanted to hear the buzz of bees through the windows in summer.
They wandered inside, Isla giggling when Mike instinctively ducked as he walked into the sitting room, even though he didn’t need to anymore, the room twice the size it used to be. The walls had been painted a warm cream, similar to the stones outside. They were still waiting for the carpets to be laid, which would be done the next day.
“We can get a three piece suite in here now,” smiled Mike.
They toured the rest of the house. The kitchen units were in place, they were just waiting for the white goods to be delivered.
Upstairs they’d decided to reduce the size of two of the bedrooms and have four bedrooms instead of three. The master had a small en-suite attached.
“Are you going to use one of these rooms as a music room?” Mike asked her.
“Yes. That leaves us one bedroom as a guest room and another as a nursery.”
“Yeah.”
She grinned as his eyes widened and his head snapped round to face her. “Nursery?”
Isla nodded. “We’ll need to have it ready in about six months.”
“Y…you’re sure?”
&n
bsp; “Positive. I did a test.”
“Yes,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around her and picking her up. “Mrs Miller you are amazing.”
“I know,” she smiled up at him, her nose crinkling adorably.
They were interrupted by a knock at the door and they went downstairs together to answer it. A smiling pock-faced man in a blue boiler suit greeted them.
“I’ve got to check the electrics so you can get your safety certificate. I came by earlier but no one was in,” he told them chirpily. “I finished my last job early so I thought I’d stop by and see if you were in. I won’t be back this way for another couple of weeks.”
“Oh, sorry about that,” said Mike. “We’ve had so much going on it slipped our minds.”
“Not to worry, happens to the best of us,” said the man, stepping inside and wiping his feet, even though they didn’t have a mat on the floor yet. “I grew up around here,” he continued. “I remember the stories my mum told me about Drowned Jenny.”
“It’s not the dead you need to fear,” said Isla, her gaze slipping down to the jetty. “It’s the living.”
The electrician’s smile faltered. “I suppose you’re right.”
Mike showed him into the house while Isla gazed out at the water, a shadow passing across her as her eyes slipped back to the jetty. Her hand went to her stomach, to her and Mike’s child and the shadow evaporated.
Determinedly she slammed the door shut on the past. And on her fear.
THE END
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Heather Atkinson December 2019.
The Loch Page 33